


Triptych

by BrighteyedJill



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Bondage, M/M, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-08
Updated: 2011-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-14 13:25:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/149649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrighteyedJill/pseuds/BrighteyedJill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is how it happens, from three points of view.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Triptych

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gblvr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gblvr/gifts).



Chekov is drifting in a pleasant, star-dappled haze of post-coital contentment when McCoy says, “You want Kirk to fuck you.”

Chekov swims up through whirlpools of lethargy and props himself up on his elbows, which is about as far as he can go with his hands still tied to the bed’s support structure. He regards McCoy, who’s settled into his favorite chair, facing the foot of the bed. He’s gloriously nude, except for the air of easy authority he always wears. “I want what?” he asks.

“I see it on the bridge often enough. I can imagine what goes on when I’m not there.”

“I don’t--.” Chekov studies McCoy’s face carefully. “This is only a fantasy. You know I have…” He waves his hand vaguely,” A ‘thing’ for men in authority. Like you.”

“I know.” McCoy rises out of his chair and crawls up alongside Chekov. He traces a finger up Chekov’s bare side, making him shudder deliciously. “That doesn’t mean you don’t want it to come true.”

“No,” Chekov agreed, as he bared his throat to McCoy’s touch. “It does not.”  
\--

“So really,” McCoy concludes, “You’d be doing me a favor.”

“Bullshit,” Kirk laughs. His amusement dies away as McCoy doesn’t laugh with him or scowl at him, but simply waits patiently for him to quit chuckling. His stomach—and okay, maybe his dick, too—does this strange clenchy thing. “You can’t be serious. Is this some jealous thing? I bet this is some jealous thing.”

“Not jealous,” McCoy says. He pours another finger of bourbon into Kirk’s glass and puts the cap back on the bottle. “I know you’re interested. You’d be a fool not to be interested. He’s beautiful. And god, Jim, his mouth--.”

“Stop it, stop.” Kirk picks up his glass, tips it back, and swirls a mouthful of liquor around like medicine before he swallows. “He asked for this?”

“Not in words,” McCoy shrugs. “But he told me just the same. Trust me, Jim. Making Chekov happy—preferably the damp and sweaty kind of happy—is what I do in my off hours.”

Kirk clutches his glass. He shouldn’t be letting McCoy convince him. Fucking around with Bones at the Academy was one thing: being brought in as a guest star on The Naked Adventures of Bones and His Too-Beautiful Husband Who Is By The Way a Member Of Your Bridge Staff was quite another.

“Jim.” McCoy reaches out to take Kirk’s empty glass, but ends up twining his fingers around Kirk’s wrist and squeezing. “I’d like to have you there.”

Kirk raises an eyebrow, “When you say ‘have me?’”  
\--

They both reach for McCoy at once, their moans a lovely harmony: Kirk’s throaty baritone and Chekov’s desperate tenor urging him on. He slides the rest of the way in, until his chest is flush against Kirk’s back. He can feel Kirk breathing, harsh and fast.

On the bed below them, Chekov pets his hands down Kirk’s shuddering sides. He cants his hips up to open himself further for Kirk, and Kirk moans in response. “Molchi, dorogoi,” Chekov says softly.

McCoy doesn’t recognize the words; usually when Chekov slips into Russian in bed, it’s admonitions to hurry or go harder, or to let him come, not this gentle whisper. When Chekov looks up, McCoy has to pry his hand off Kirk’s hip a moment to drag his fingers through Chekov’s tousled curls, because he knows. Chekov gets it; this is something—someone—they both want.

“Hey,” Kirk says, bolstering his shaky voice with a generous measure of bravado. “I thought you guys were supposed to be hard core. Chains and paddles and all that. Is this all you got? Don’t—Ah!” His taunts dissolve into yelps when McCoy snaps his hips forward at the same time Chekov clenches the muscles of his ass tight around Kirk’s dick.

This time, when Chekov catches his glance, his eyes are full of mischief. “Davai?” he asks.

This word, McCoy knows. “Yeah,” he agrees. “Let’s show him what we can do.”


End file.
